


Lost Time

by strawberry_pills



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills
Summary: It had been five years since she left London—since she left him. She should've known that the past has a way of coming back.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 47
Kudos: 196





	1. Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days

**Author's Note:**

> It's been almost a year since I posted this and truth be told, I actually forgot the plot lol. I had planned on deleting all my unfinished fics except Our Legacy but I kept receiving a few private messages from my Tumblr account since two months ago asking me about this fic. I decided to give it a go again and I finally managed to finished the story. I had to edit the first chapter though because my writing became slightly different since last year.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

_How long, baby, have I been away?  
_ _Oh, it feels like ages though you say it's only days.  
_ _There ain't language for the things I've seen.  
_ _And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams.  
([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5v8wqI8KE_E))_

* * *

**Six years ago.**

Hermione had never liked events that required her to use social skills. It was not that she was uncouth or had the social skills of a wet rag, it was just that making small talk about the weather or the current trend never really appealed to her. Truth be told, she would rather have a screaming match with someone about the other possible effects of adding a powdered bezoar to a Draught of Living Death potion rather than gossip about who was screwing who while getting drunk on champagne.

It was how she ended up alone at a table in a party the Ministry threw on the first ever anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat.

She knew she should celebrate too since she had finally finished her final year at Hogwarts, unlike Harry and Ron who decided to forgo the final year and take Kingsley’s immediate offer of being accepted into the Auror program. Hermione was offered a slot as well but declined politely, having enough of physical violence in her lifetime and decided to pursue a career in academia instead.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she felt nothing.

Hermione wasn’t as happy as a clam unlike most of her peers right now, but she wasn’t also feeling down in the dumps. It felt like she was in between that. Suspended in the middle like a broken compass that couldn’t tell which way it would point. She and Ron had parted amicably after the realization that the only thing they had in common was ensuring Harry’s success in defeating Voldemort, nonetheless, the separation chipped away something inside her that left her feeling hollow.

Staring at the now empty glass of champagne, Hermione opted to the bar for her third (or was it fourth?) refill. As the barman poured her flute, she gazed across the dancefloor where all her friends were merrily swaying to the music until her vision landed on a pair of blue eyes paler than forget-me-nots looking equally bored.

Hermione had to blink twice to make sure it was not her very own reflection staring back at her.

Although the Malfoys had been pardoned by the Ministry for their last-minute change of heart, the action brought them at odds from both sides. Branded as traitors by their fellow Pureblood peers while viewed as nothing more than scum by the so-called ‘light’.

Hermione felt a tiny bit empathetic towards them. Being stuck in the middle was a lot worse than being on the wrong side.

She turned back to her drink, taking a hefty gulp of champagne before settling it back down. She’d give it thirty minutes more before she would utter her excuses and make her way out. But as her thirty-minute mark ended and her unidentified number of champagne refill was emptied out, a deep voice halted her supposed exit.

“Leaving so soon, Miss Granger?”

“I would hardly call it soon, Mr. Malfoy,” she replied. He was leaning onto the bar, one hand dangling casually at his side while the other held a tumbler of what she assumed was firewhisky. “The party has been going on for four hours now and everyone is already gripping their champagne flute so hard as if it’ll prevent them from falling. I think it’s time I take my leave before it gets worse.”

“And leave me here to endure all these?” he drawled as a teasing smirk crept upon his handsome face.

“I’m sure your wife is capable of that feat.”

“Ex-wife. The divorce was finally settled a month ago.”

“Oh,” that really surprised her. Hermione had always thought the two were solid as a rock. But she supposed even the hardest and strongest of rocks got broken and weathered with time. “Should I offer my condolences or my congratulations?”

“Neither,” he murmured before tilting his head to take a sip of his firewhiskey. Hermione was entranced by the play of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his pale throat. “It was a long time coming anyway.”

“You came here alone then?”

“I was with Draco. But my son seemed preoccupied at the moment.”

They both glanced in the direction of the dancefloor where Draco was lewdly dancing with the ever tactless Pansy Parkinson. Hermione was about to suppress her look of disgust when she noticed Mr. Malfoy was looking equally revolted if not more so.

“I thought you would like her for Draco?”

“Why? Because she’s Pureblood?” he gave her a disparaging smile. “I’d prefer Draco marry a Muggle than her.”

“Why, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione purred as she placed a hand mockingly across her chest and noticed his eyes shifted there. “Is that a compliment to my heritage?”

“Call me Lucius,” he then said, choosing to ignore her barb about his former and now demolished ideals.

She gazed at him for a moment. It felt way too familiar to call him by his given name. But Hermione would hazard a guess that this will be the only time they will ever talk in person so why not indulge him? Besides, maybe Lucius Malfoy would be a sufficient entertainment for tonight. If not, she can always leave.

“In that case, call me Hermione.”

* * *

**Present.**

Hermione had not been expecting this.

Draco and Blaise promised her that it was only going to be a small gathering for their homecoming and her birthday. _Just a few friends,_ the men had told her. _A small party, nothing big._ She should’ve known better than to trust the word of a consummate Slytherin—reformed or not. The lying bastards.

Hermione was sure there were at least fifty people in Blaise’s rather large apartment. Knowing him, there were probably more. Nearly all their classmates from every house were there even the ones she hadn’t interacted with during her stay at Hogwarts. It still felt surreal to see them all in one place and not a single fight breaking out.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful. She knew they both had meant well, they always did when it came to her, but tonight she had really just wanted a small party. Well, Hermione never really like large parties in the first place but that was beside the point. She’d been looking forward to catching up with Harry and the rest of her old friends. She sighed.

 _Oh well._ Nothing she could do about it now.

It had been five years since she left London and went to the US to continue her studies. She was really surprised to bump into Draco and Blaise one day as she rushed towards her first class. Surprised to find out they were both taking Mastery in Potions as well and had almost the same schedule.

She pretended not to know the two for a week going as far as to arrive early in class and leave the last just to avoid them but living in a foreign land all by yourself tended to bring out something that made you reach out to something familiar.

But it was Draco who approached her first. Claiming he was having difficulty brewing a certain potion for their preliminary practical exam. Hermione immediately recognized it as a truce of sorts. Probably urged by Draco, Blaise eventually reached out to her too and so began their road to forgiveness and healing.

But that newfound friendship was tested two weeks later when Hermione found out she was pregnant. Throughout her pregnancy, Draco immediately reverted to the annoying ferret that he was back when they were in Hogwarts and kept asking her who the father of her unborn child was but Hermione kept her mouth firmly shut.

 _It’s none of your business,_ she would always say and Draco eventually ceased asking.

The child’s paternity came into question again when Hermione finally gave birth to a healthy boy with sandy colored hair and a pair of pale blue eyes. As luck would have it, Draco was the one who accompanied her to the hospital and stayed with her throughout the labor and the birth. She was a hundred percent positive that she broke his fingers by squeezing too hard but he assured her that she didn’t.

_“He has your face but he has father’s eyes,” Draco said as he cradled the tiny bundle of joy in his arms. She felt fear gripped her insides, wondering if he’d known all along._

_Hermione sighed. “Yes,” she said softly. She reached out her arms and Draco gently placed the sleeping baby in it. “How did you know? Did he tell you?”_

_“No. I just noticed things. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”_

_Hermione looked up at him, surprised at the last statement. “Why?”_

_“As you said,” he flashed her a boyish grin, “it’s not my business.”_

_“Thank you, Draco,” she said as tears started to form in her eyes._

_"So, what's the name of the little one?”_

_"_ _Roman.”_

_"My great grandfather's name was Roman," Draco seemed to ponder that for a moment before nodding his head in approval. “Roman Malfoy. I like it.”_

_Of course, Hermione knew about that fact. “What makes you think I’ll let my child take your last name?”_

_“Oh, come off it, Granger!” Draco whined. “He’s my little brother and I already agreed I won’t tell father unless you wanted me to.”_

_Hermione had really no intention of letting her son take his father’s last name. Didn’t want any reminder of him but decided that intention was moot considering Roman inherited his father’s strikingly pale blue eyes. That’s something quite hard to ignore._

_“Oh, alright. You win.”_

"Mommy!”

Her son broke her train of thought. Hermione watched as Roman skidded to a halt in front of her, face flushed from running around the apartment all day. She scooped him up in her arms. “Happy birthday mommy!” The four-year-old threw his arms around Hermione’s neck and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“Thank you, angel.”

“Big brother is gonna teach me quidditch! Oh, and Uncle Blaise and Uncle Harry too!”

At the mention of his name, Blaise Zabini came around and approached the two. "It's good to be back, isn't it?"

"It is," Hermione replied.

“You don’t mind, do you? Us teaching Roman how to ride a broom?” Blaise asked as he ruffled her son’s sandy curls which have grown a lot and were now covering nearly half of his face. “He’ll be riding with Potter so he’ll be perfectly safe.”

Hermione smiled and placed her son back on the ground. They both watched him run off and disappear to Merlin knows where. “No, not at all. Ever since his magic started showing, he’s been a huge ball of energy.”

“It's a sign that he's going to be a formidable wizard when he grows up,” he smirked.

"Is that so?"

"It is. Considering who his parents are."

Hermione remained silent at that.

She and Blaise were a different story. Hermione knew that the Italian wizard had developed feelings for her throughout their time in the US but the moment he found out the identity of Roman's father, he grew a bit distant with her although he still loved Roman as if he were his.

The news of her pregnancy soon reached London and everyone automatically assumed the father was either Blaise or Draco but most people assumed it was Blaise since Roman’s hair color was slightly similar to him than Draco’s.

If only they knew.

A week after the news broke out, Harry came over to the US, using the Wizarding Summit as an excuse to “drop by” since he was in the neighborhood. Ginny came over when one of her quidditch matches was held in the US too as well as Luna who was traveling with Rolf Scamander around the globe to study various magical beasts.

Ron was the last to visit. It started as a screaming match between the two, with their past being brought back again for discussion. It wasn’t until Roman came in that Ron suddenly calmed down. Hermione fought a smirk to appear on her lips. Her son really had that effect on everyone.

_“He looks like you,” Ron said as he crouched down to face the child. “Hello there, mate.”_

_Roman narrowed his eyes at the redheaded wizard. “I don’t like you. You’re mean to mum.”_

_“Roman!” Hermione chastised. “What did I tell you about being rude?”_

_Ron waved her off smiling. “It’s alright,” he said to her then he faced the child again. “Your mother and I were just talking. I apologize if I’m being mean.”_

_The boy merely harrumphed and stormed off in the direction of the living room, resuming his playing._

_“Draco’s bratty attitude is rubbing off on him,” Hermione sighed._

_“Well, it’s bound to happen even if the ferret isn’t present in his life. He’s a Malfoy after all.”_

“Does Mr. Malfoy know?” Blaise asked her suddenly, bringing her back to the present.

“No.”

Blaise nodded. “It’s been five years, Hermione. Don’t you think—”

“He made his choice, Blaise.”

“Alright, it’s your life,” the Slytherin shrugged. “I’ve got to go find the little one, Happy birthday Hermione.”

Hermione watched Blaise walk away. She wondered vaguely where her son had gone to, but she brushed the thought away, knowing he was more than safe here.

She glanced around, wondering, trying to spot Harry, Ron, or Ginny amongst the crowd, but to no avail. She sighed and went to get a drink.

Thinking back to the years since she left her homeland, Hermione had to wonder how she survived it all. She thought it would’ve been a breeze considering she was practically a mother to both Harry and Ron for seven years but no. Being a single mother and student at the same time was a whole different and much harder struggle.

She nearly threw the white towel and drop out of university in favor of getting a job to support her son. The money she had stored in her account was only for her education. Getting pregnant wasn’t part of the budget. And since her parents were unaware they had a daughter, Hermione was left all alone by herself to deal with it.

Draco and Blaise were a live saver though. At first, she vehemently refused to take any form of help from them, most especially Draco.

But her stubborn nature can only go so far.

The subtle threat of Draco informing his father about Roman’s existence if Hermione didn’t accept his help made her begrudgingly acquiesce. Damn the Malfoys and their underhanded tactics.

She missed _him_ sometimes. In fact, she missed him far more than she would care to admit. Draco still saw him on occasion but thank Merlin he never went to the US that Hermione didn’t have to fear her or her son running into him. She didn’t think she would be able to stand it if he exercised his paternal rights and took away Roman from her. Absentmindedly, she wondered if he was happy. Happy with his choices.

“Are you alright?” A deep voice beside her brought her back to reality. She must’ve been making a face. That voice alone should’ve clued her in who the owner of it was but Hermione was caught up in her memories to take notice.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. Thank you!”

Hermione turned and in an instant, her whole world shifted. Pale blue eyes met her bright brown ones.

“Happy birthday, my dear.” 


	2. If I can't change the weather maybe I can change your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an overdue update (lol I'm so sorry). If you've read this fic recently or still remember what you read, I advise you to go back to the first chapter again. I updated it along with posting this new chapter.

_I_ _f I can't change the weather maybe I can change your mind  
_ _If we can't be together what's the point of life  
_ _Baby, I didn't mean the things I said; I don't honestly wish you were dead  
_ _I'm a fool, I'm just a man; If I only could hold you again  
([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPYk6jEopvw)) _

* * *

_“_ _Happy birthday, my dear.”_

Hermione felt herself stiffen instantly at the sight of him standing there so close to her to touch. It had been five years since she heard or saw him and she had to blink a few times to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. She’d had enough of him invading her dreams. Didn’t need for him to haunt her waking moments either.

When seconds passed and the vision before her didn’t disappear, only then Hermione acknowledged that he was here. Lucius Malfoy, in all his glory, was really standing right in front of her.

Hermione had to fight the sudden urge to cry and throw herself at him. It’s been five years but it seemed time itself had left him untouched. _He made his decision,_ she reminded herself. _He was the one who walked away._

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“It’s my son’s homecoming too, you know,” that stupid smirk that she had once loved was plastered on his face. “Naturally, I’d be here.”

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the back hallway that led to the secondary exit. Once everyone else was out of sight, Hermione shoved him against the wall and pinned his wrists on both sides. “I’ll ask you one more time, what are you doing here?”

“I’m having déjà vu,” he pouted. “I seem to remember last time we were in a darkened hallway with a party going on. Though, I do believe our positions were reversed.”

“Lucius,” Hermione’s eyes narrowed at him. “Cut the crap.”

He chuckled softly. “I wanted to see you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she hissed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” he tried to break free from her grasp to touch her cheek but Hermione held on strong.

“You made your choice, Lucius. You chose your goddamn pride over me.”

“Hermione I—”

“Muuummm,” Hermione released her hold on his wrist and turned to see Roman coming down the hallway towards them. A crippling fear settled over her chest.

Hermione’s heart was in her throat. She could feel Lucius’s eyes burning into her as she turned towards her son. Their son. _Oh Merlin, not now. I don’t want to lose my son._

“Mummy why are you back here?” the little boy looked up at Lucius. “Who are you?”

“Yes, Hermione, dear. Care to introduce me?” Lucius arched an eyebrow at the witch.

Hermione bit back a sigh. She pulled her son a little closer and gestured in Lucius’s direction. “Roman, sweetie, this is Mr. Malfoy. He’s… an old friend.”

The boy’s eyes instantly lit up at the mention of the family name. “Malfoy? Like Draco?” At Hermione’s nod, Roman held out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione intently watched as Lucius took the boy’s little hand and gave it a light shake. The small interaction between unsuspecting father and son made her heart constrict. “Hello, Roman. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Roman nodded then took off but he gave Lucius a parting wave before turning a corner back to her friends.

“He looks like you,” he remarked, and Hermione could detect a note of sadness in his tone. “I don’t see a trace of Zabini in him. Though really, giving him the same name as my grandfather? A little tasteless—”

“He does look like me,” Hermione interrupted. He would find out eventually now that she’s back for good and Hermione thought it was best that the news came from her, and not the gossip rags called Daily Prophet. “Except he has your eyes.”

She turned to face him fully. For the first time in her life, she saw the color drain from Lucius Malfoy’s face.

“What?”

“He’s turning five in two months, Lucius, do the math,” she crossed her arms and leaned against the opposite wall.

“But Draco said—Hermione why would you—” Lucius was now running his hand through his long platinum blond hair. She’d never seen him this distressed.

“It’s because I asked Draco to keep it from you,” she lied. Hermione had no intention of involving Draco in this mess.

Suddenly, she was the one being pinned against the wall this time with Lucius’ cold large hands holding her arms in a tight grip. “How could you do that to me, Hermione?”

Hermione had seen him mad, but there was something about the way he spoke now that made her downright terrified. “I’ve spent years thinking that child was Zabini’s! Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

“I didn’t want you in his life!” she snapped, causing Lucius to take a step back as if she’d slapped him. “I didn’t want him to be someone else’s filthy little secret! You made that decision when you told me you didn’t want our relationship to become public!”

“For you,” he spat. His molten forget-me-nots suddenly turned to steel. “Do you have any idea what the press would do to you if they found out you were involved with me? An ex-convict? A man twice your age? Yes, I wanted to keep our relationship secret because I didn’t want those vultures tearing every inch of my private life, but I did it for you!”

Hermione can’t seem to muster the strength to gaze into his eyes and looked down at her fingernails instead. “I thought you were just using me.”

“What in Merlin’s shriveled balls made you think that!?” he was still angry, but she noticed his voice had softened a bit.

“When you left my apartment that day, I asked you if you ever loved me. You never answered. You just left. I figured you were done with me.”

Hermione didn’t realize she had started crying till he reached up to wipe away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Lucius pulled her into his arms and Hermione felt herself give in. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and found that he still smelled just the same. “How could you ever think I didn’t love you? You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. The most beautiful, the most brilliant.”

He moved back so they were face to face. “Hermione I—”

“Granger! Roman wants to eat ice cream!” Draco yelled into the kitchen. The pair quickly jumped apart. They heard footsteps and Draco soon came around the corner coming from the kitchen. “There you are—ohh, hello, Father.”

Hermione took advantage of the dark hallway to wipe her eyes, hoping the ferret wouldn’t notice she’d been crying. “Just give him only one scoop. He’s had enough sweets since the party started.”

Draco’s eyes flitted to his passive father then to his distraught looking friend. “I take it you know about Roman?” he asked Lucius nervously, guessing it was what the two were talking about before he so rudely interrupted them.

Lucius gave a curt nod and Hermione had to wonder what was going on in his mind. “We will talk about this tomorrow, Draco. I don’t appreciate the deception.”

“But—” Draco started to protest but Hermione cut him off.

“Leave Draco out of this, Lucius,” she snapped. “If you ever want Roman to be in your life then you better start treating both your sons the love and respect they deserve.”

Lucius looked at her in shock. “You’d allow me to see my son?”

“Do I have any choice if I said no?”

A genuine warm smile broke out of Lucius’ face and Hermione found herself returning the gesture. The moment was broken when they heard a relieved sigh in front of them.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to have you in the family, Granger,” Draco smirked in their direction.

“Go and get your brother his ice cream before I change my mind,” Lucius barked at his son while earning him a glare from Hermione at the same time. “What?”

Hermione shook her head. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“So do you,” he murmured, taking a step closer. Lucius tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Still as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

“I’m sorry for keeping Roman a secret from you,” Hermione bit her lip. "I didn't do it to deliberately hurt you."

“And I apologize for the things I’ve said back then. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you didn’t matter to me,” he said. “You’ve bewitched me, body and soul and I adore you, Hermione Jean Granger. More than you could ever know.”

“How could I stay mad when you’re flawlessly quoting my favorite line?” she smiled fondly at him. “I love you too.”

“Tell me this means you’ll immediately break up with that boy,” Lucius drawled irritatingly. “I’ve already lost so much time.”

“Who, Blaise? We’re not together, you jealous prat,” she lightly hit him on the shoulder. “It’s always been you.”

“Good,” was the last thing Lucius said before he pressed his lips against hers.

* * *

**Six years ago.**

She felt his hand flitting against her back, and the slow, agonizing pull of her zipper, its teeth separating one by one. By the time they reached her door, her dress was gaping open, and with nothing more than a shake of her shoulders the entire article of clothing fell off, pooling around her feet.

She felt rather than heard Lucius' intake of breath, and Hermione smiled, knowing as she did that he cannot see her do so.

"White," he murmured, his words nearly muffled against her skin, "of course you're wearing all white." He tilted her head back so that it fell onto his shoulder, and his mouth moved to claim the side of her throat. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he said, and each word was punctuated by a kiss, a lick, a bite.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, her voice almost cracking in two as he suddenly spun her around to face him, pushing her gently until she hit the wall beside the open door. He bent his mouth trailing across her breasts, his tongue flicking out to trace her nipples through the sheer, gauzy material of her bra, and he paused to unhook it and pull the scrap of fabric from her shoulders. Instinctively, in spite of the pleased noises she was making not seconds earlier, Hermione moved to cover herself, but his hands lightly gripped her wrists before she did and moved to pin them against the wall above her head.

It was shameful, really, how much she liked that.

For a while, they stayed like that, suspended between going into her room and not, Hermione pushing herself wantonly into Lucius, against where he still ached for her, and both of them burning, burning, burning. His questions were all ragged moans into her mouth, against her neck; her answers were all little sighs and gasps of approval.

Eventually, she broke away again, finding his collar and pulling him forward so that he stumbled against her and through the doorway, into her bedroom. As they walked, she toed off her heels, and, following her lead, he leaned down to slip off his shoes—designer, she was sure, even his socks. She made quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt, but before she can tug the material open, he lifted her easily, grabbing below her knees so that she yelped inelegantly in surprise. She blushed at the sound, and when Lucius tossed her on the bed, he was laughing.

"Shut up," she managed to grit out before he covered her body with his, and she can feel him smiling against her mouth when he kissed her. They were chest to chest when he finally took his shirt off, but she hardly even noticed, distracted as she was when, moments later, his hands found her cotton panties and peeled them from her hips, pulling them down her legs slowly, torturously.

Hermione bit her lip in an attempt to keep from making even more involuntary noises, but she can't help her whimper when his fingers found that spot underneath her curls and stroked roughly against her. She might feel slightly embarrassed at how she wasn't shaved, how clearly unprepared she was but he didn't seem to mind, and she can't quite find it in herself to care when Lucius' hand is just so—

"Are you a virgin?" he asked suddenly, the sentence a hum against her collarbone.

Underneath him, entirely naked and with Lucius' hands between her legs, his fingers slipping between her folds to feel how wet she is for him, Hermione almost laughed. "You already know the answer to that."

"I might. Maybe I just want to hear you say it," he leaned up so he can see her face. Gone was the gray in his gaze; his eyes were entirely blue now, his pupils practically swallowing their irises, and clouded over with lust. His voice poured out of him in a rasp, like smoke. "Maybe I just want to hear that I'm the first man ever to see you like this, that I'll be the first man to make you scream."

She smirked. "You think I'm a screamer?"

He rolled his hips hard against her, the coarse material of his pants rubbing between her legs so that she gasped. "I think after tonight," he murmured, "only you and I will know."

"Someone's arrogant," Hermione breathed out, reaching down to work open his belt buckle, sliding the leather from the loops of his slacks.

His hand covered hers, guiding it to undo the button, then the zipper. "For good reason, Hermione, I assure you."

She tilted her head up again to kiss him if only to wipe the smug smirk from his face, but as he kicked away the last remaining articles of clothing separating skin from skin, her breath hitched in her throat. He was big, probably too big for her. Hermione wondered how he’ll fit in.

She nodded then, her fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. "Yes," she said, and she didn't know if she was answering or begging him, "you'll be the first."

Above her, Lucius nearly trembled, and within moments he had positioned himself at her entrance. He was pushing into her—and it was painful, it was disconcerting, but not nearly as bad as she had imagined—and his breath shuddered out as he said one word: good.

He was slow at first, allowing her to get acclimated, and Hermione was grateful for that, but soon she was the one urging him on, calling out words almost unconsciously, following the examples of women in romance novels she read and hid behind other books on her shelf— _oh god and yes and right there and harder, harder, Lucius._

Lucius, to his credit, was all too happy to oblige.

With every thrust, every groan of his into her mouth, she can feel something building low in her abdomen, and it was so good, so much better than any of her efforts alone in her bed, almost better than his lingering touches in the Ministry function room and he kept at it, harder and faster than before, his hips angled to draw those needy little noises from her lips. She began to move with him, rocking up and back so that she can chase her release, and he groaned out a curse.

"Are you close?" the question was directed into her neck, and when she replied only in the way of a breathy moan he slid his hand down between them and rubbed against her, hurried, frantic strokes that soon pushed her over the edge.

She didn't scream when she came, pleasure washing over her body so that she tightened around his cock and her nails dug into his back and her toes curl, but the sound she made was enough to send him falling quickly after her.

After a few long seconds, he pulled out, landing heavily at her side, and muttered a wandless cleansing charm across their bodies. As he settled back on the bed, Hermione willed her breath to steady as she let go of the gray comforter from where she had been clenching it tightly in her hands, the sheets now rumpled and shoved over to one corner of the bed. Lucius then tugged at her wrist, the sensation followed by his mouth on her shoulder.

"How did I compare?" the words were said against her skin, and she turned her head.

"To what?"

"All the fantasies."

Hermione smiled, her mouth quirking up at the corners; even men like Lucius Malfoy had to know about how they performed. "What makes you so sure I had fantasies of you?”

“You didn’t think I wouldn't notice you checking me out across the function room? You weren’t exactly discreet.”

“You and your big, presumptuous ego,” she teased.

“It’s not the only thing that’s big,” he smirked at her lewdly.

“Arrogance doesn’t suit you,” Hermione reached out, dancing her fingers along his side, listening as his breathing stuttered when she lightly trailed her finger upward. "What you asked me." She fixed her gaze on him, pleased at the way his eyes nearly glassed over, but she can't show her hand, not quite yet. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his. "It was better."

Then, before he can really react, she extricated herself from his grip and sauntered to her bathroom door, leaving him momentarily stunned in her wake.

"Aren't you coming?" she called back after a minute, and his steps were fast to catch up with her.

Hermione would realize later that the hollow feeling in her chest was barely nonexistent anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting the final chapter (an epilogue) next year—I mean, next week ;)


	3. Epilogue

_Then you came into my life with come hither in your eyes  
_ _Pulling me outta the grave what a nice surprise  
_ _I die when our nights end  
_ _But I only stay dead till I see you again  
([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUP7fA2BAfw)) _

* * *

The doors to the Malfoy library burst open and Hermione watched as her husband staggered through the doors all the way to the loveseat she was currently occupying. Lucius fell face first into her lap before letting out an agonizing groan that sounded more like an animal being tortured. There were a few small chunks of cotton candy stuck to his hair which she vanished with a simple wave of her hand.

“Tired, my love?” she chuckled, looking down from her book to the back of his head.

“Shut up, woman,” he growled into her thighs. “You didn’t have to tote a hyperactive seven year old around a Muggle zoo all day. I don’t want to hear it.”

Hermione patted his head in sympathy. “Sleep in tomorrow. I'll take Roman to the Quidditch match.”

In a sudden move that surprised both, Lucius sat up and pinned her to the backrest. “No!”

“Lucius—”

“We had a deal!” he waggled a finger in front of her face. “You had him for yourself for over four years. I get to take our son out for myself for the next four!”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Hermione swatted his hand away from her face. “Fine! Work yourself to an early grave!”

“Now who’s being ridiculous? I'm not that old!”

“No,” she agreed. “But you’re not as young as you used to be, Lucius. At least let me come with you. You know how a handful our son can be.”

“Oh, alright,” he grumbled as he laid back, his head pillowed on Hermione’s lap again. “But I’m not going to cheer for Ginevra’s team.”

“Even if your son asked you to? You know how he adores his Aunt Ginny.”

Lucius shot her a look that clearly said, ‘over my dead gorgeous body’. Despite being civil to each other now (Hermione suspected it was only for her sake), apparently, the traditional Malfoy-Weasley feud still continued to this day.

The pair had been married for a year and a half now. True to his word, Lucius wasted no time and proposed to her two months after the homecoming party. It was during a charity event hosted by the Ministry and everyone, save for her close friends, expected Hermione to make her comeback debut with Blaise Zabini only to find her walking up the steps in the arms of the intimidating Malfoy patriarch. The press didn’t spare a millisecond and immediately bombarded the pair with questions and flashes of cameras. Lucius, naturally, took it in stride and soaked all the attention. He even went out of his way to clear everything about his relationship with Hermione and most especially the true paternity of the child.

Hermione, on the other hand, was in a daze at the amount of attention they were receiving and was extremely grateful to Lucius for taking over the interviews. He remarked, once they were alone inside the Ministry halls, that if their relationship was publicized five years ago, the reception wouldn’t be this warm and enthusiastic.

_“But why? What’s the difference?” she asked him._

_“Because I had five years to redeem the Malfoy name,” Lucius then smiled at her warmly. “I had hoped to win you back someday and we wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”_

If it weren’t for the makeup she painstakingly applied for over an hour tonight, Hermione would’ve cried then and there at his words. And when he went down on one knee in front of her and everyone attending the event, Hermione didn’t even hesitate to say yes as tears leaked from her eyes. Screw the makeup.

The wedding, which was held in the wide expanse of the Malfoy gardens, was a simple and small affair much to Lucius’ exasperation and Hermione’s complete satisfaction.

_“Why on earth do we need to invite two hundred people we barely even know?”_

_“But Hermione, dear—”_

_“Don’t ‘dear’ me!” Hermione brandished her wand in his direction. “I get the final vote on the guest list.”_

Hermione had wanted to tell Roman about Lucius right off the bat, but Lucius told her he wanted to get to know his son first. It only took them a month. The child managed to put two and two together immediately since Roman already knew Draco was his big brother.

To Hermione’s surprise, the two got along really well. Lucius was an excellent father when he wasn’t burdened by the pressure of acting like a stiff, aristocratic prat. He doted and spoiled Roman just a little bit. Well, more than a little. Draco would argue that his father spoiled Roman more than his firstborn, not that Draco was complaining. He adored his little brother just the same and would often spoil Roman too every chance he got—which was a lot.

_“So, he’s not allowed to have ice cream for dinner?” Lucius raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her in question while Draco and Roman stared at her with wide puppy eyes across the dinner table._

_“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, I can’t believe you right now!”_

_“Can’t he have a single scoop at least?” Draco pleaded on behalf of his brother while Roman sat beside him, nodding his head vigorously._

_“Shut it, Draco!” she brandished a fork in his direction and then turned her attention to her son. “And you, young man. Eat what’s on the table.”_

_“Yes, mum.”_

Roman had his father wrapped around his little finger—something he was aware of and had utilized to get what he wanted whenever his mother wasn’t around. That is, until Hermione arrived home earlier than expected one day to an Aston Martin parked on their lawn with Roman and Lucius sitting inside inspecting the car’s features. She dragged her husband by the arm until they were out of their son’s earshot and started questioning him, even summoning her inner Molly Weasley.

_“Lucius, why is there a sports car in the gardens?”_

_“Our son wanted one.”_

_“He’s seven! He can’t even drive let alone reach the gas pedal!” Hermione pointed in the direction of the car where Roman was happily pushing every button he could find. “How in Circe’s name did you even manage to get that thing here?”_

_“I had it delivered,” Lucius murmured, finally realizing how foolish purchasing a huge ‘toy’ for their son was. Maybe he could get Roman a train set instead similar to the Hogwarts Express. They could assemble it together in his study and—Lucius stopped short at the sight of his wife’s murderous glare._

_“I know that look,” she snapped. “I’m putting a stop to this, Lucius. Who knows what you’ll buy next? The entire McDonald’s company?”_

_“Don’t be daft, my dear,” Lucius crossed his arms across his chest in a petulant manner. Roman was his father’s son alright. “Seven is still too young to run a company. Maybe when he’s thirteen—”_

_“Ugghh!” Hermione threw her hands up in frustration and started marching back to the Manor, mumbling words like ‘overbearing’ and ‘idiot’ along the way._

“And how are the young cretins at Hogwarts these days?” Lucius asked as he reached out to twirl a lock of her hair.

“Don’t let the Headmistress hear you say that,” she chuckled. “Professor Snape’s portrait in the Potions classroom keeps them in line most days.”

“That man has perfected the art of scaring children even in the afterlife,” Lucius mused. “I wish he had seen our son.”

“I showed him pictures of Roman when I first started teaching. He hoped that our son wouldn’t be too obsessed with his hair like you and a know-it-all swot like me.”

“I’m not obsessed with my hair!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “The fifteen bottles of different hair products in our bathroom beg to differ.”

They heard hurried footsteps outside and soon Roman, freshly bathed, entered the library carrying a large lion stuffed animal, nearly the same height as him. Ditty the house-elf followed closely behind, panting.

“Ditty has finished bathing the young Master.”

“Thank you, Ditty,” Hermione smiled at the elf before it disapparated to resume its household duties.

“Muuuummmm! Look what dad got me!” Roman suddenly rushed forward and launched himself to his unsuspecting parents. A muffled ‘oommff’ could be heard from Lucius as Roman started to climb his mother’s lap, his left knee ending up in his father’s face. Hermione thought she heard a crunching sound.

“Roman, wait! You’re going to hurt your father!” she immediately set her book to the side before hauling her son off her lap and Lucius’ face.

Hermione heard Lucius chant ‘I love my son’ as he sat up, covering half of his face with his palm. She then placed their son in between them and leaned forward to place a kiss on her husband’s nose. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just my pride that’s wounded,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, dad,” Lucius patted his son’s head in acknowledgment while Roman smiled at his father sheepishly before turning his attention to his mother. “Dad got me a lion!”

“Aww, that looks cute, angel,” Hermione cooed at her son.

Roman then hopped off the chair and both parents gazed fondly as he ran around the room clutching his stuffed animal while making roaring noises.

“He wanted to take home the python from the zoo but I told him you would be mad so we got the largest toy in the souvenir shop instead,” Lucius smugly said. “He’s definitely going to be in Slytherin.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open and her eyes nearly popped out of her sockets. “A python?”

“It’s a type of snake—”

“I know what a python is, Lucius,” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Care to tell me why our son suddenly wanted a live snake?”

“It’s in the Malfoy crest, dear,” Lucius remarked as if that thing should be quite obvious and normal to her.

Hermione sighed and conceded the fact that her husband was indeed an odd man. “Although I have to say, you’re getting good at this. It’s been a month since the last time you gave into our son’s outrageous demands.”

Lucius’ face brightened at the praise, although on the inside, he was trying his hardest not to tell her that he actually got tricked into buying the latest Nimbus broomstick for Roman last week. It was sitting in the very back of his study, hidden away amongst shelves. He only allowed Roman to use it when his mother was at Hogwarts and when he’s under Draco’s supervision.

Hermione didn’t need to know about that little bit of a slip in his record. Nope.

Lucius reached out for his wife’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

The Malfoy family made their way to their private box at the top of the stadium. Hermione stifled a giggle as everyone openly gawked at her husband who, in all his intimidating glory, carried their son on his shoulders. Roman seemed oblivious to it all and was vibrating with excitement.

“Uncle Harry!” the boy shouted across the throng of people as he spotted Harry standing beside Draco. Roman patted his father’s head asking Lucius to let him down.

Lucius hooked his hands under his son’s arms and gently let him down on the floor. Roman instantly took off and bolted to his brother.

“Does he ever run out of energy?” Lucius asked as he wound an arm across his wife’s waist, pulling her closer beside him.

Hermione shook her head. “I actually wondered if you were that energetic as a kid. I know I’m not.”

“Gods, no,” he frowned. “My father would’ve whipped me senseless. Would you think the worst of me if I tell you I’m glad he died early?”

“Somehow, that seems mild compared to some of the things you did in the past,” Hermione deadpanned. “Not unless you actually murdered your father.”

“Touché. Though I didn’t kill him. He died of Dragon Pox a month before Draco was born.”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked at her husband in shock. “Please don’t tell me you named Draco after a disease that killed your father.”

Her suspicions were confirmed when Lucius’ normally pasty complexion darkened, a blush coloring his entire face down to his neck which she found endearing. “Seriously? I’m so glad I got to name our son.”

“Oh, what did father do now?” Draco said as the couple finally arrived at their private box. They took a seat behind Roman who sat between his big brother and Uncle Harry.

“Do you really want to know, Draco?” Hermione smiled sweetly at her son-in-law. She finally had something to blackmail Lucius with and to lord over Draco once the latter found out the circumstances regarding his name.

Seeing his father blush even darker, Draco shook his head vehemently. “I think I prefer not to know anything about my father and stepmum’s sex life. Thank you very much.”

“I do!” Harry piped up.

“What’s sex?” Roman asked suddenly and all heads whipped in his direction. The child shrank back slightly to his seat at seeing everyone’s reaction.

“You and your big mouth,” Hermione hissed at Draco. She then looked to Lucius for help but her husband seemed to find the ceiling suddenly interesting. Men, she sighed. “Sweetie, it’s something couples do when they want to have babies. You’ll understand it more when you’re older.”

The child’s eyes widened in wonder. “Are you and daddy having sex right now?”

Both parents nearly fell out of their chair while Draco and Harry were intensely vibrating with poorly controlled laughter.

“Uhh, no, angel,” Hermione stammered. She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She shouldn’t have suggested coming here. Lucius, on the other hand, looked like he was having a coronary.

Roman visibly deflated at that.

“Why do you ask?” Draco nudged his little brother, not willing to drop the subject. Seeing his former enemy and father collectively lose their shit was always entertaining to watch.

“I want a baby sister.”

“Oh,” everyone including Harry exclaimed.

“Well, sweetie,” Hermione glanced in Lucius’ direction. She smiled before turning back to her son “Can you wait for a few months? Though I can’t promise it’ll be a girl.”

“It’s okay if it's a boy. We can play quidditch!” the child clapped his hands together and then turned his attention back to the center of the pitch where the game was just starting.

“Is it— Are you—” Lucius couldn’t seem to find the right words for a moment. “How long?”

“The healer said I was three weeks along but I only found out two days ago,” Hermione smiled at him.

The two boys congratulated them and, like Roman, eventually turned their focus to the ongoing game.

“I swear to Merlin if you ran away from me again, I will scour the ends of the earth to find you. I will chain you to the bedpost if I have to.”

Hermione reached out to pull his face towards hers before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.”

“Good,” he returned the kiss much deeper. “I get to name the little one this time.”

“As long as it’s not Voldemort or, Merlin forbid, Dolores!” she shuddered at the thought.

“Nothing horrible, my dear. I promise.”

A few months later, Hermione gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She had her father’s face and the trademark Malfoy blond hair but inherited her mother’s eyes. Lucius named her Lilith, after Hermione’s mother, much to his wife’s immense relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. I just wanna thank everyone for sticking around. I was about to completely abandon this fic if it weren't for your encouraging messages. I think I'll finish And Something New Will Begin before I go back to Our Legacy.
> 
> Btw, I'm open to prompts and ideas regarding these two. You can message me on Tumblr. https://strawberry-pills.tumblr.com/ask


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